


To The Dentist!

by Onyxim



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Bruce has a fear of the dentist, Dentist Visits, Humor, If anyone wants to create an ending to this be my guest, Laughing Gas, M/M, Maybe I'll make a chapter two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 16:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4968358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxim/pseuds/Onyxim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an incident with an apple, Clark takes (drags) Bruce to the dentist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Dentist!

"Thank you, Alfred," Clark said sincerely and took the offered bowl of ice cream. Alfred smiled. 

"You're welcome, Master Clark," he responded while handing Bruce his requested apple. 

Bruce barely look up from his laptop as he held the apple in his hand, staring intently at the screen. 

Alfred left the room, and Clark asked, "So, what are you looking at?" 

"Security footage from Gotham Bank last night," Bruce said absentmindedly, turning the apple in his hand. "I was sure there were only three men that had showed up, but looking back now, there were four." 

Clark sat down next to him on the couch, scooping a spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth. On the screen, Batman was fighting off the other three while robber number four snuck his way to the open vault. Clark winced when he watched Batman take a particularly hard punch to the jaw. 

"So he got away with the money?" Clark asked.

"Unfortunately. But, it happens," Bruce said dismissively, even though Clark knew that he was silently berating himself for letting one get away. 

He quickly changed the subject. "Why didn't you get any ice cream like I did?" 

Bruce turned to him for the first time that day and raised an ebony eyebrow. "I don't have much of a sweet tooth." 

"Apples are sweet." 

"The green ones are, not the red ones." On that note, Bruce took a bite of his apple, which made a crunch noise when his teeth sank into it. Then he made a face and a hand went up to the side of his face. "Ow!"

Clark frowned. "What?"

Bruce swallowed what he had chewed up and spat two bloody halves of his teeth into the palm of his hand. 

Clark's eyes widened, and it was then he noticed the bite marks on the apple were bloody. 

Bruce sighed. "Oh, hell." 

"Jesus." Clark grabbed Bruce's jaw and turned his face towards his.

"Hey--!"

"Let me see." 

Sure enough, the two teeth next to Bruce's canines were cracked, each missing a half, leaving his gums bloody. 

"Wow." 

"It's not that bad." Bruce moved his head away and and stared at the little white teeth in his hands. 

"Bruce, you're not a kid anymore, it's not like they're gonna grow back." Clark raised his eyebrows. "You know what this means, right?" 

Bruce froze. 

"No."

"You have to." 

"I don't *need* to!" 

"Your teeth are fractured!"

"Let me rephrase that: I don't *want* to." 

"Too bad. I'm making you go."

"But Clark--" 

"No buts. We're going." With that, Clark grabbed Bruce's hand and pulled him off the couch. "Come on! I'll ask Alfred to drive us."

Bruce scowled fiercely and growled under his breath but let himself be, more or less, dragged to his least favourite place on Earth. 

\--- 

"Stop fidgeting," Clark said.

"I'm not 'fidgeting'," Bruce snapped back, but nonetheless kept shifting in his seat. He glared holes into the magazine he was holding (not reading), and Clark watched with amusement as it began shaking slightly due to Bruce's trembling hands. 

"Geez, Bruce, calm down. It's just the dentist." 

Bruce whipped his head towards him, an outraged look on his face. "'Just the dentist'?!" he whispered harshly, mindful of the other patients in the large waiting room. "Do you have any idea what they do to you in there?! They stick pointy things in your mouth and you're not allowed to do anything or they'll drop one of their tools down your throat!" Bruce's voice steadily climbed louder. "And every time they drug me, I have no idea what they're doing. For all I know, they've invited the Joker in TO HELP WITH THE GODDAMN PROCEDURE!" 

Several patients glanced over at them, either confused or shocked. 

Clark chuckled nervously and they returned to whatever they were doing. Then, he turned back to Bruce. "So you're afraid of not being in control?" 

Bruce opened his mouth to object but the door on the other side of the room opened. "Mr. Wayne," called a woman in blue scrubs. 

Clark heard Bruce gulp as he helped him out of his seat. His husband's muscles were tense under his clothes. 

"You'll be fine," Clark reassured him gently. 

Bruce inhaled and exhaled deeply before marching over to the awaiting nurse. 

\----

"Mr. Wayne, how have you been?" asked Dr. Siffler, smiling warmly as he prepared his necessary tools. 

"I've been well. And you?" Bruce asked as smoothly as he could. He watched Dr. Siffler placed a drill and a few other sharp instruments on the metal tray besides his chair and he gulped. 

"About the same since the last time you visited." An amused glance. "Which was about five years ago." 

"Heh," Bruce huffed nervously, watching as Dr. Siffler brought over a small machine, a laptop, and a heavy, bib-looking thing. He gripped the armrests of the chair hard, knuckles turning white. 

Clark, who was sitting next to him in a plastic chair, placed a hand on his shoulder. Bruce shrugged it away immediately and hissed, "Get off of me."

"I can hear your heart rate increasing," Clark murmured. "I'm just trying to comfort you."

"Comfort me?! I wouldn't *need* comfort if you hadn't taken me here!"

"Now, Bruce, could you bite down on this for me so I can see exactly what's going on?" Dr. Siffler held a piece of what looked like aluminum foil between his gloved fingers. 

Bruce opened his mouth obediently, mindful of his fractured teeth. He clamped his jaw down on the weird metal. 

Not two minutes later, an x-ray or Bruce's teeth popped up on the laptop's screen. Dr. Siffler observed it and nodded. "Hmm. Welp, looks like you've got a fractured cusp on your first premolar and a crack in your upper canine. Good thing you came here right away, cracks are almost always highly untreatable."

Clark gave Bruce a knowing look. "Told you." 

"Oh, shut up."

"You also still have three of your third molars, or, your wisdom teeth. I suggest we remove those today. . ." 

Bruce paled. 

"First, I'm going to use this tool here. . ." He held up an instrument that was shaped like a hook. ". . .to count your teeth. I promise it won't hurt."

*I don't care if it hurts!* Bruce screeched in his head. *Don't go poking around my mouth with that!*

It was like slow motion. Dr. Siffler was coming at his mouth with the tool, and all Bruce could see was that shiny, menacing-looking hook. His heart pounded even faster. His breathing picked up, teetering on the edge of hyperventilation.

Clark frowned at Bruce's sudden stiffness, and then his eyes widened. "Oh, no. . ." 

Then-- 

Bruce had jumped out of the chair and hid behind it. "DON'T YOU FUCKING *DARE* COME NEAR ME WITH THAT THING!" He shouted, eyes wild. 

"Bruce!" Clark exclaimed, lunging for his husband but he was knocked away by Bruce's fist. He flew into a metal cabinet. 

Dr. Siffler tackled him to the ground and Clark watched with an unusual mix of horror and amusement as Bruce flailed about, screaming and kicking like a five-year-old under Dr. Siffler's surprisingly strong hold. He pinned down Bruce's wrists and forced him to stay still. 

"Get off of me, you damn dirty--!"

"Mr. Kent! The tranquilizers in the cabinet!" Dr. Siffler shouted, his face calm but his voice commanding.

Clark nodded once and pulled open the newly dented cabinet, eyes immediately finding a plastic container labeled, "Tranqs". He opened the container and took out a little dart and rushed over to hand it to Dr. Siffler.

"Hold him down," the dentist instructed.

Clark took Bruce's hands in his own and pushed them against the floor. 

"LET ME GO!" Bruce yelled. 

Dr. Siffler plunged the dart into his neck, and Clark watched Bruce's movements cease, a confused look was on his face before his eyelids fluttered closed and he went limp.

Dr. Siffler stood up, dusting himself off while Clark took Bruce in his arms and laid him in the chair.

"When he wakes up, we'll have to strap his wrists to the armrests," Dr. Siffler said. 

Clark was a little dazed. He'd never seen Bruce freak out like he did.  "Does. . . this happen often?"

"Every time he visits, yes." Dr. Siffler strapped Bruce's wrists to the chair. "He'll be awake in about an hour or so. I'll begin on the fractured teeth. By the time he gains consciousness I'll be finished. Then we'll have to work on his wisdom teeth, which will require local anesthesia."

Clark nodded. "I'll wait outside."

"I'll come and get you when he comes to." 

\-----  
Bruce groaned as he rose to consciousness. His head was swimmy and muddled. He blinked several times, tried to move but found himself strapped in place. There was a numbness in his mouth.

Realizing where he was, he sighed. It happened again. 

"You're awake, Bruce?" said Dr. Siffler, who was at the sink across the room and scrubbing his hands. 

Bruce tried to respond, but all that came out was babbled nonsense. 

"Hmm. I see the tranquilizer hasn't worn off yet. After all, I had given you enough to take down an elephant."

"Hwaaaa?" Bruce managed in a panicked tone.

Dr. Siffler chuckled and turned off the tap. "Just dentist humour." He walked over to the door and opened it.

Clark walked in. "Is he okay?" he asked.

"He's fine. Incredibly drowsy, I'm sure, but he's fine." Dr. Siffler gestured to Bruce, who was trying to figure out how to talk again by doing something odd with his tongue.

Clark cautiously walked towards Bruce, like he was afraid he was going to freak out again. Bruce turned towards him slowly and squinted.

"Cl. . .ahk?"

"Close enough." Clark smiled a little. "How are you feeling?"

Bruce's eyes focused a little more, last traces of the tranq disappearing. "Fine, I guess."

"Good," chimed in Dr. Siffler, "because here comes the hard part."

"What?" Bruce frowned. "I thought--"

"I did the procedure on your teeth," Dr. Siffler explained. "But you'd have to be, uh, somewhat awake for the wisdom teeth removal."

"'Somewhat awake?'" Clark said.

"I'll put him under local anesthesia and 'laughing gas'," he used air quotes, "so he won't feel any pain. But I suggest you stay in the room for this, Mr. Kent."

"Okay. . .but for what?"

"Patients tend to get a little. . ." Dr. Siffler smiled, "'loopy', as most of them call it." 

"You are not putting me on any more drugs," Bruce said flatly. 

"Would rather me pull out your wisdom teeth one by one, and you'd feel all of it?"

Bruce clamped his mouth shut.

"That's what I thought." Dr. Siffler went to the closet and pulled out a metal large canister and a bunch of other things. He turned to Bruce and Clark, smiling widely.

"Shall we begin?"

\--------- 

"You want me to help?" Dick asked over the phone.

"He's gonna be a handful," Clark said, leaning back in the chair he was sitting in in the waiting room. "If you could drive us back to the manor, that'd be great."

"Why aren't you in there with him?"

"He said he'd be much calmer if I stayed outside." Clark heard the door open. He turned and saw Bruce leaning heavily on Dr. Siffler, eyes half-lidded and two pieces of cotton sitting in between the sides of teeth. He held an ice pack to his face.

"He's coming out now. Just meet us at the front door."

"Got it." Dick hung up.

Dr. Siffler guided Bruce over to Clark, who stood up. Bruce's head lolled against his shoulder as he took hold of him.

"Be careful," the dentist said, "he's been a little uncooperative."

"Right. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. Just make sure he takes this prescription every day to numb the pain. Make sure he keeps that ice pack on his face so the swelling goes down." Dr. Siffler waved his goodbye and returned to his office.

Clark gently reminded Bruce that they had to leave.  
Bruce put a hand up to his bottom lip and kept pressing on it. He stuck his tongue out a few times.

"Put your tongue back in your mouth, Bruce," Clark chuckled as they walked outside.

"Is my bottom lip there?" Bruce asked, and his voice was a little muffled because of the cotton in his mouth.

"Yes, your bottom lip's there."

Bruce blinked drowsily. "Are ya sure?"

Dick's black car pulled up to the curb. He got out of the driver's side and gave Bruce a long look, took in his slouched posture and glassy eyes, not to mention the way he kept playing with his tongue and his bottom lip.

Dick huffed a little laugh. "Wow, he's really out of it, isn't he?"

"I can't feel my cheeks," Bruce whined, feeling all over his face. "This isn't right. They're not there."

"Let's get him in the car." Clark opened the backseat and helped Bruce slide in. He buckled his seat belt while Bruce's head lolled back against the seat.

"I'll drive. I want you to stay in the back with Bruce," Clark told Dick.

"Sure." Dick's face brightened. "Hey, can I record him?"

"I don't think he'll like. . ." Clark trailed off as he strapped himself onto the driver's seat. He thought back to the tantrum he threw earlier that day. He sent a small smirk to Dick. "Don't forget to send it to me."

Dick beamed as Clark took off down the street.

Bruce stared out the window and then glanced at Dick. "Are we on a rollercoaster?" 

"Shh, Bruce, you shouldn't talk, your mouth is still bleeding." Dick took note of the blood-soaked cotton in Bruce's mouth. "A lot."

"Okay." Bruce started fumbling with his ice pack. 

"No, Bruce, put that back on your face--" 

He took off the paper towels from the blue ice pack inside. "Is this the ocean?" But the cotton in his mouth made it sound like, "Ith thith the ocean?"

Dick started laughing.

Bruce turned his head towards him, slow and lazy. "Why're you laughing at me?!" He squinted at Dick's phone, which was pointed towards him. "I like your phone."

"What?" Dick ceased his laughter.

"I like your phone!" he shouted.

"Oh. Thanks."

Clark chuckled from the front of the car.

"Can I have one?"

"You already have one. It's in your pocket."

"What?" Bruce looked disbelieving. His jaw dropped. "No way!"

Dick leaned over and took out Bruce's large Wayne Tech phone and put it in his available hand.

"Whooooooaaaa," Bruce drawled out, staring at the shiny screen. "I wish I had one."

Clark started laughing.

Bruce leaned up in his seat and grabbed Clark's face. Clark shook him off. "Bruce, I'm trying to drive." 

"Your cheeks are so soft." Bruce felt his own cheeks. "But I can't even feel mine. I have cotton in my mouth and I don't know what's goin' on." 

"Bruce, you need to rest, okay?" Clark turned and smiled at him. "Just lay back in your seat."

Bruce thunked his head back on the seat. "But if I go to sleep i'mma miss the dentist. Gotta get my wis'om teeth out." His words got a little more slurred. 

"You already got your wisdom teeth out, Bruce," Dick said to him slowly.

"No I dinnint. I still got 'em. Because the dennist didn't give my teeth back so I still got 'em."

Before Dick could respond, Bruce shouted, "I CAN'T FEEL MY FACE AND I'M MAD!" He went quiet for a minute. "But it feels so good on my face. . ." he trailed off, head lolling against his shoulder as he fell asleep. The ice pack fell onto his lap.

Dick grinned evilly and stopped recording the video. "Oh, I'm so showing this to the rest of the JLA."

**Author's Note:**

> I tried at least seven different endings and wasn't satisfied with any of them.  
> If you wanna continue this story, or make it so that while at a JLA meeting, Batman is acting all loopy because of his medicine, go ahead. Just let me know so that I can read it! :D


End file.
